


Magic McCree

by FalabaWitch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Happy Birthday my friend, Stripper fic, lets not pretend he is above stripping, listen McCree needed money at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalabaWitch/pseuds/FalabaWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a short time, between leaving Blackwatch and becoming a vigilante trying to make the world better. A time where Jesse McCree was strapped for cash. And well, if you've got it, flaunt it.</p>
<p>Also known as 'That fic where McCree was a stripper'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic McCree

**Author's Note:**

> Spawning from a discussion between my friend Psychovox and I, this ended up being a birthday present for her. So, Happy Birthday darling! Have some sexy McCree!

Jesse McCree can never really say that he had a boring life, if he’s going to be honest. Since he was young, he’s fallen in with the wrong crowds, over and over again, which leads people down interesting roads to say the least.

  
He never thought it would have led him to this point in his life, though. He had always thought his career was heading towards gang leader, or a shallow grave. Not a strip show.

He wasn’t going to complain, per se. In his opinion, it was ten times better than anything Blackwatch was going to do for him at this point. And it was good cash- letting women ogle him, with the occasional lapdance. (Okay maybe not occasional but damn, women will pay good money for that.)

Jesse looked over the little station he had made for himself backstage, and ran a hand through his hair. He examined his reflection in the shabby mirror he had attempted to hang up for himself. The glass was musty on it, and it looked like it had enough history to have lived through the Omnic war, but it gave him a good enough reflection. It let him see the checkered button up they’d given him, that was just tight enough, and had buttons that could pop off if someone simply ghosted their fingers over them. It also showed the well-fitted jeans, and the assless chaps that sat over them. And, to top the outfit off, he placed his hat right on top of his head, and gave the mirror a roguish smile.

He looked like a western movie met a wet dream, which was probably the best compliment he could give himself.

“Jesse, you’re on deck! Get your ass up next to that stage!” The young stage manager poked her head in the door, her ponytail swinging just a bit as she poked her head in. She looked him up and down, remarking, “Damn, I’m gay and I’d still eat you up. You’re gonna knock them dead out there tonight.”

“Think I can get one to faint?” He joked, walking past her, and she snorted.

“If you can, I’ll give you an extra 20 bucks, no lapdance needed.”

“Oh, but I’m just so good at them, darlin’.” He turned up the southern charm, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walked towards the stage door. The woman blushed, and pushed him off.

“Dammit Jesse, save your charm for the women who will actually pay you for it,” she grumbled, and pushed him through the door. “And here, oil yourself up!” She tossed him a bottle as he walked away, and he caught it, groaning just a bit. Oil may have made his abs look great, but it was a bitch to get out of his body hair.

He chuckled a little to himself, and climbed the short set of stairs, waiting in the wings for his name to be called. He could hear the Emcee doing his introduction, and McCree had to prepare himself.

“Now, all you wonderful ladies, you’ve gotten to see a lot of gorgeous men tonight. Firefighters, soldiers, even a sexy latin lover or two!” The ladies shrilly screamed at the reminder of the previous numbers. “But, now, there’s always one type of man that we haven’t shown... We got any country girls out there tonight?” More screams erupted from the crowd, and Jesse had to roll his eyes a little. Tonight they were in rural Pennsylvania, no shit they would have girls who thought themselves ‘country’.

“Well tonight, we have a man for you! And for all you girls who aren’t even that country, let me tell you- you’d go country for a ride on this cowboy! Ladies, I’d like for you to meet- Jesse!” With that, he swaggered on stage, one hand in his pocket, a cheeky smile on his face, and he tipped his hat. And that was all it took for the shrieking to start.

Let it never be said that this job didn’t do a wonderful number on a person’s self esteem.

He made his way to the front of the stage as the song started up behind him, and he tried not to laugh at it. He had chosen the song himself, but he was never quite going to get over it. ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ was not the most subtle song in the world.  
As he swaggered forward, he looked over the crowd, whose screams had gotten louder as soon as he came into view. He winked at one of the random women, and simply, began to dance.

Jesse was never the best dancer in the world- he would be the first to admit it. But well, when you had Gabriel Reyes as your mentor, you learned how to use your hips. As he danced, his knees hit the stage as he bucked upwards, and his hand ghosted right over his crotch, before untucking the plaid shirt. It showed off the the smallest extra hint of skin, and he smirked at the crowd, the women screaming.

He continued to dance, mostly through his hips and pelvis. Actually, entirely through his hips and pelvis. Occasionally he would mime something along with the lyrics of the music, and as the song and the women screamed out “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy!” He tore his shirt open, running a hand across his own bare chest. The crowd was going insane, and he reached down to brush his own hand at the women’s who were reaching up to him. They were desperate for contact with him, and, well, Jesse wasn’t going to deny them.

He made eye contact with one of them, and smiled a crooked smile, before grabbing her outstretched hand and pulling her upwards, onto the stage with him. He pulled her close with one move, leaning over her shocked face, whispering, “Let me know if I go too far- but now, time to put on a show, if you don’t mind.” He raised an eyebrow, asking for permission. Her face was stunned, but she quickly nodded, and he was off.

One of the stage hands had pulled a chair up onto the stage, and Jesse swept her small, lithe form right into it, as the song changed. Again, it was a personal choice. Less fitting with the country aesthetic, admittedly, but he did want to give this girl a chance to ‘ride his pony’, so to speak.

So she sat, nervous, her legs clenched tight together, as he began to really work, pulling her hands up to his chest, having her run her fingers up, threading them through his chest hair.

When he had first started this gig, the manager that hired him had taken one look at his body hair, and simply said, “You’ll have to shave. All the men do.” But it had taken one public routine for them to see that the body hair was really an advantage. Women loved something to hold on to, and it worked with the sort-of bear vibe he gave off. And so it had stayed, a fact that the women he brought up on stage were often thankful for.

This girl certainly seemed to be, as when his hand left hers, it stayed on his chest, tracing the lines of his abs. He liked the sensation, but he did have a routine to get to. He grinded down onto her lap, before picking her up with little effort and placed her on top of him. She gasped, her face going bright red as he bucked into her, pulling her close. Her hand found its way to his hair, and before he could even think about it, he placed his hat on her head. The crowd went wild for it, and Jesse dropped her back down again, before getting on his knees.

He looked up at her, from between her now tan, spread, and slack legs. She was looking at him from under his hat, bright red but a smile on her face, her chin length dark hair all mussed up from being tossed around. Frankly, even though he didn’t know her, it was a damn fine sight, knowing that he did that.

He pulled his body upwards, the beat pounding in his ears, and his tongue was out, ghosting right up along her body. And then he brought his head back down, keeping it buried near her center, pulling her body close yet again. It was very, very clear what he was supposed to be doing, as he pulled her down off the chair onto his face. McCree was glad she didn’t have a skirt, or having his head between her legs would be much, much, more awkward.

He could barely hear the music over the crowd at this point, but the legs on each side of his head were also muffling things. But this was how he liked it. With his routines, there was often way more mimed sex than actual dancing, especially when he could get a girl up there and have her stay there.

He moved her once again, so the girl’s back was on the stage. And now, he presented himself to her, motioning to the fly on his jeans, an eyebrow cocked upwards.

Her mouth dropped a little, but she reached a hesitant hand out and quickly unbuttoned the singular button. That was all he needed, as he stood above her in his full height, smirking at the crowd, turned around, and pulled them completely down.  
Not at dramatic as tearaway pants, he thought to himself, but then he had an idea, and ‘accidentally’ let his underpants get pulled down just a little bit more with his jeans. And with a single glimpse of his ass, the crowd was his once again. He was glad he had a nice enough ass to gain that much screaming.

He kicked off the pants to the side, before returning to the girl, and at this point it was just complete and utter debauchery. Now, she was faced with the true power of Jesse McCree clad only in a tight pair of underpants and ridiculous cowboy boots. She seemed to tremble with excitement, her brown skin flushed from head to toe. McCree found it utterly adorable.

Jesse bucked into her, wrapped her legs around him, and pulled her close. He noticed, as he pulled her hands to his body again, that the oil and sweat was rubbing off a bit on her clothes, and he was utterly pleased with himself. She was holding his hat on her head, and he picked her up, his back to the crowd again, letting them see his back muscles flex, and it must’ve been a damn nice view to see his shoulder muscles straining while his glutes flexed into her, her fingers running through his hair as she bounced. The audience vocal enough to let him know they appreciated it.

But the song had to end, and he gently placed her down, making sure she was stable on shaky legs. He picked his hat up right off of her head, and winked.

“Thanks for participating, sweetheart. Hope you had as much fun as I did up there,” he murmured in her ear, before she was whisked off. She still stared at him as she was led back down, her eyes dragging up and down his body, and back down to her hands, covered in oil and sweat. But her brown eyes shined and her cheeks were flushed, and it was clear she had just as much fun.

He turned back to the crowd, huge and adoring, and was flooded with endorphins for a moment. They were faceless in the stage lights, but the crowd was packed, a sea of bodies that melted together from his current perspective. Sweaty, horny bodies that all wanted a piece of him. Desperate for him, even.

He cocked his hip to the side, shaking his hair loose around his shoulders, and spoke into the singular mic near the front of the stage, ‘So, ladies- who wants a ride next?”

They screamed, and Jesse’s ego shot through the roof.

 

Twenty minutes later, Jesse was backstage again, in the cramped room he used as his dressing room, slowly uncrumpling ones and twenties in front of him, counting up the stack of bills.His boots were kicked up onto the table in front of the mirror, letting himself finally relax, like after an intense workout. He hadn’t bothered to put any of his clothes on yet, letting himself cool down just a bit before he put anything back on his body.

Suddenly, the door to his dressing room burst open, and the young stage manager bustled in, an annoyed look on her face. She stood in front of him, clearly steamed, and held out a single twenty to him.

“I was so close to winning until you did the thing with the lasso in that last part.” She said through gritted teeth.

Jesse snorted, and plucked the bill from her fingers, adding to the pile. “If you want, you don’t have to pay me for the bet. You can have a discount lapdance, just from me.” He gave her a wolfish grin, and she shoved his shoulder.

“Bite me Jesse. I have a girl waiting back home who I can get a free one from, who doesn’t wear ridiculous cowboy boots for the duration,” She looked down at the boots for a moment, and asked, “Do they have spurs? How do you not injure people with those?”

“Very carefully, darlin’. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a large pile of money with my name on it,” he said, waving his hand in the vague direction of the cash. She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her face as she left him alone.

He looked back at the money, and in the mirror at his mostly naked body. But as he looked, the photo he had stuck in the corner of the mirror caught his eye. It was one of the few pictures he had kept from his years at Overwatch, a picture with most of his favorite people in it. A very, very, young Jesse, an even younger Fareeha, Ana, Angela, Jack, Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Winston. Everyone was there. Even Reyes, still preferring to angst off to the side, was there, with just a small smile on his face at whomever was taking the photo.

He sighed, and tore his eyes away from it. “No sense in being nostalgic there, McCree,” he said to himself. “Half the people there are dead and gone and the other half can’t find you. You left ‘em.” He chuckled darkly to himself, adding, “Besides, this was better pay than Overwatch ever gave you.”

Which was absolutely true, when he finished counting up the bills. It may have been less rewarding at the end of the day, but stripping paid miles better than being a hero.

  
Jesse McCree could never say he had a boring life, and now that he stood, alone, almost naked in his own dressing room, he decided not to question where it was going to take him next, after gangmember to hero to stripper. At this point, nothing would surprise him.

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter of this will take a little time, and has significantly less stripping. But I refuse to write a stripper fic and NOT have everyone else in Overwatch find out this amazing bit of info.


End file.
